Asian Nymph & Father O'connor

I stood by my mother's car, tapping my foot. Even that apparently minor act of rebellion was enough to draw a warning glance from her. I sighed and turned away as she locked the front door of our house.

I just need to get through today, I thought. Go to church, look repentent, find Jesus. Easy.

It was a simple plan.

At 18, the time for me to find God had probably long since passed. I recently needed to keep my devout mother happy however due to a... minor transgression.

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Unfortunately, my mother had returned early from work a week earlier and caught me getting plowed from behind by our 40-something year old neighbour, Mr. Summers. The three of us froze in shock before my Mom started shouting obscenities at both of us in Vietnamese. He quickly grabbed his clothes and managed to escape as my mother chased him with a broom, his big cock bouncing comically as he scarpered.

When she returned to the living room, I was meekly pulling my clothes back on, my eyes avoiding her gaze.

"THAT IS IT!!!" she yelled in Veitnamese, fire burning behind her eyes. "YOU ARE A FILTHY SLUT! YOU BRING NOTHING BUT SHAME TO ME AND YOUR FATHER! YOU WILL NEVER HAVE A HUSBAND AND FAMILY IF YOU!... IF YOU!..." She struggled to put into words what she had just witnessed. "... IF YOU HAVE NO MORALS!" she finished, with righteous scorn.

"Please Mom! I'm sorry!" I pleaded. I wasn't particularly. I was sorry she caught us.

"It was the first time!" I professed.

It wasn't even the first time that day.

My mother shook her head, stormed out of the room and went upstairs. I heard her bedroom door close with a bang.

Oh shit, I was really in for it. If she told my traditional, buttoned-up father, he would surely throw me out of the house. At the very least.

I had to stop her. I had to convince her somehow to keep it to herself.

I quietly climbed the stairs after her. Outside her room, I hesitated before gently knocking on the door.

"Mom?... Can I come in?"

No answer.

I opened the door slightly and tentatively peaked around it.

My mother was sitting on the bed facing away from me. Her shoulders were rising and falling rapidly. She was sobbing quietly.

"Mom... I'm really sorry! I don't know why I let him come in..." I didn't feel bad lying to my mother about my sexuality. I figured out years ago that she couldn't guide me through the overwhelming desires I felt. Her default answer to most of life's challenges was prayer.

Although I didn't have the same sexual hang-ups as my parents, I did feel bad for making her cry. She wasn't a bad woman, she just saw the world differently to me. No doubt her growing up in Vietnam while I grew up in the US had led to diverging opinions about a lot of issues, especially sexuality. I wondered at times if she regretted moving our family to America.

She stopped crying after a couple of minutes. I sat on the bed behind her and wrapped my arms around her. She tensed as I did so, and I knew then that there would be no easy 'forgiving and forgetting'.

She rose suddenly, my outstretched arms falling away from her.

She turned to face me, tears still in her eyes but steely resolution there too.

"I must tell your father." she said finally.

"NOOOOOOOO MOM! PLEASE! HE'LL KILL ME!" I begged desperately. I was now genuinely terrified. If I was lucky, he'd just kick me out of the house. I began to hope Mr. Summers was on his way to the airport, for his own safety.

"I must, Sang! He is your father, and this is his house!... I am sorry. Do not blame me for your sin!"

FUCK!

This was not good. I had to convince her somehow.

THINK!

My Mom was always preaching about sin and heaven. She had stopped trying to bring me to our local Catholic church when I was 14. Even then, my stubborn rebelliousness caused her endless grief.

Hmmmm... The Church!

"What if..." I paused dramatically, trying to act genuinely remorseful. "... What if I spoke to a priest?"

She looked at me with suspicious curiousity, clearly taken aback by my suggestion.

"Maybe he could help me control my urges... at least until I found a husband?" I continued, unsure as to how convincing my ruse was.

"You are just saying that so I won't tell your father..." she said, her eyes narrowing. She didn't know how right she was.

Looking back, I think she wanted to be convinced. Giving me another chance was far less stressful for her than lighting my father's fuse.

"No, Mom... I understand you have to tell him. He is your husband, and I have brought shame to you both... But I don't want to be a slave to my desire anymore. As you say, what kind of life will I have if I don't learn to control my urges?" One full of fucking and sucking, no doubt.

I had mixed feelings about this degree of deception, but I was desperate. I had to fully commit to the gambit.

I waited as she thought about my words.

"Maybe Father O'Connor can bring you back to God." she mused.

"I don't know, Mom. I hope so. I just want to be good."

A few seconds passed without either of us speaking. I tried to look appropriately contrite as I held her gaze.

She opened her arms and I rose to embrace her.

Phew.

"You will come to St. Mark's with me on Sunday, and after the service I will ask Father O'Connor to take your confession." she decided.

What about my Dad? Would she still tell him what had happened?

"Ok Mom. I'll confess and do whatever he recommends."

She held me for a minute or so. Finally, she said "I won't tell your father, Sang... He would only lose his temper... But I need you to change your ways. If you do not, I will pack your bags myself. However, if you live a good, Christian life, you will be happier for it and your soul will be saved."

I almost envied her earnest faith.

"Thank you, Mom..."

Thank the Lord!

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And so it was that I accompanied my mother to St. Mark's Catholic Church on a sunny Sunday May afternoon.

She wore a cream jacket and skirt, with a light blue shirt and tan shoes tastefully completing the ensemble. I wore a plain black skirt, short black pumps and a white shirt. I dressed as conservatively as my wardrobe allowed, hoping to re-assure my mother of my recent Road-to-Damascus conversion.

She parked in the church lot, and we entered through the high, marble arch. We were only a couple of minutes early, but the pews were almost empty. There must have been less than a hundred people, mostly elderly women, in a venue that could hold at least a thousand.

My mother strode up the center aisle, her lips pursed tightly and head held high as she picked out a seat for us in the 2nd row. Great, I thought, at least we won't miss any of the billionth recital of 'the greatest story ever told'. Let me guess, he dies in the end?

I sat upright beside my mother, a paragon of piety. I was to be a good girl today.

A bell chimed loudly, and the congregation rose to their feet. The church organ played a hymn and some parishioners sang as the priest emerged from the vestry, flanked by two altar boys holding candles.

Oh my God.

He's so young!

Father O'Connor was probably no more than 40, and more handsome than I expected. He was probably 6'1 with clear white skin, short, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. The fact that he was a priest seemed to make him even more attractive.

A shiver of desire ran down my spine.

"Please be seated!" his voice boomed, his arms raised as he stood in front of the altar.

The hymn ended and he began the mass with a prayer.

As the mass proceeded, I rose, knelt and prayed with the rest of the parishioners. I somehow remembered most of the words to the prayers, my 9 years of church attendance standing in good stead.

Father O'Connors eyes raked across the attendees as he gave his sermon.

"We sin, we repent, and we are forgiven. This is the difficult truth we must accept in order to live a good life. We cannot escape sin. We cannot offset the debt we hold to our creator. Our flesh is weak, our eyes are covetous, our words are false. We are all prone to temptation..." His eyes momentarily fell upon me, and my heart fluttered.

His gaze moved past me as he continued the sermon.

"And it is distinctly human to fall into sin. Fortunately, we have the one thing that this age needs most. Love. Not the cheap facsimile presented by our culture, but the love of a benevolent God. The love that is present when we join together in prayer. We need only ask for God's love, and it will be given. If a man breaks his marital vows, God can forgive and guide him back to the light. If a woman gives in to carnal desires, God can forgive and guide her back to His grace."

Did I imagine it, or were his eyes on me again?

"Let us pray."

The priest blessed himself and the Sacrament of the Eucharist began.

My mother and I rose to queue for the offering. My heart was beating quickly as I thought of standing in front of Father O'Connor. I heard the priest say "Body of Christ" before placing the holy Communion either in the palm of the parishioner (who would subsequently place it in his / her mouth), or occasionally on the parishioner's outstretched tongue. Both would say 'Amen' before the attendee returned to his / her seat.

The queue shuffled forward slowly. Soon, my mother was standing in front of the priest. He placed the wafer on her open palm. She put it in her mouth and said 'Amen' before returning to our pew.

I stepped forward and looked up at Father O'Connor's bright blue eyes. I was almost transfixed. He looked so handsome, his gaze implying deep intelligence, curiosity and warmth. I wondered if he was a virgin. It was a strange thought. And strangely exciting...

I decided to test him a little.

Instead of presenting my hand for the sacrament, I stared unblinking into his eyes and ever-so-slowly slid my tongue out of my mouth.

He seemed to pause and I thought I saw him swallow. Was I having an effect?

I hoped so.

He raised the wafer before saying "Body of Christ."

He placed it on my tongue.

"Amen." I said innocently, before turning sharply and walking back to sit beside my mother again.

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After the mass, we waited as the other attendees filed out of the church. The priest thanked the choir individually, and spoke briefly with some other waiting parishioners. Finally, he greeted my mother and me with an easy, warm smile.

God... he's hot, I thought.

"It was a lovely service Father." my mother said enthusiastically. "I must admit, your sermons often sound like you're talking directly to me." Jesus, did she have a thing for him too? "This is my daughter Sang."

He turned to me, his striking blue eyes sending another shiver down my body. He outstretched his hand.

"Very nice to meet you, Sang."

I shook his strong hand. His skin was warm and I felt electricity passing between us.

"And you too, Father." I said, trying not to blush.

"Father, may I have a word in private please?" my mother politely asked.

"Of course, Mrs. Xie."

The two of them moved to stand in an alcove. I saw them talking for a minute or so, as I stood waiting, suddenly self-conscious.

I began to get quite nervous. What would I say to him in the intimacy of the confessional booth? With some luck, he would be too busy and ask us to return another day.

I thought of being alone with him, detailing my sins through the wooden lattice between us.

God, it would be so hot to turn on this hot, celibate priest. I could just say that I had been 'infatuated' with an older man. Play the 'young and naive girl' with hormones running wild.

I couldn't possibly tell him the truth. I couldn't reveal that I was practically a nymphomaniac, needing to get fucked almost every day, preferably multiple times. How I had found my clitoris at 12 and only ever reluctantly took my hand away from it. How I had experimented with a couple of my girlfriends, our roaming fingers soon being replaced by inexperienced tongues. Or how I had fucked almost every attractive older man I knew.

No, it would be too risky to reveal all of that, but...

... it would be unbelievably hot.

Was I seriously thinking about it? God, the thought was so hot I could hardly even imagine it.

At last, my mother returned to me and spoke in a hushed, conspiratorial tone.

"Sang, Father O'Connor will take your confession. I told him that you had... an indiscretion... with a married man." I guess I had to tell him the truth now. "Please, please repent Sang! God knows your heart. Don't try to hide anything from him, be honest with Father O'Connor. This could be a turning point in your life! Do you understand?..."

I nodded solemnly. She looked relieved and we embraced. It felt nice to be in her good books for once.

Without a word I followed Father O'Connor to the confessional. He opened one of the doors for me and I stepped into the dark booth inside. I sat on the red leather-upholstered seat and waited as Father O'Connor entered the other side of the small room.

Once settled, we blessed ourselves. I struggled to remember what I was supposed to say.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been... 5 years since my last confession."

I waited for him to speak, but he remained silent.

"I have... struggled... with sexual urges. Last week, I asked my neighbour to come over... to have sex. My mother came home and caught us. That's why I'm here today. But she doesn't know half of the things I've done... I don't know if I can tell you, Father..."

Finally, he spoke, his deep voice making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "This is the one place you can confess and be forgiven."

Oh God, was I really going to do it?

I licked my lips nervously.

Fuck it.

"Well... I think that I have an extremely high sex drive Father. I need to... climax... every day. When I reached puberty, I began to experiment with my own body. Eventually, I asked a female friend who was staying over if I could touch her. She liked it too. When we finished, I asked her to touch me the same way. She did it. After that, we slept over in each others' houses for years, until we both had boyfriends."

Father O'Connor cleared his throat. "I see."

I was getting turned on, telling my sexual history to an older man. I wondered if it was making him hard. I knew it was making me a little wet.

"When I was 15, I let a boy touch me for the first time. I sucked his cock too-"

"Please!... don't use that word here. You can tell me all, but it is not necessary for that kind of language." He sounded uncomfortable. I realized that no-one had ever talked dirty to him before.

I wondered what a celibate man would do to a pussy if he lost control. Mmmmmmmm...

"Oh, of course Father! I'm sorry... I sucked his... penis... and I loved how much it aroused him. Within a few months, I was sleeping with 3 or 4 boys from my class, sometimes more than one at once. One of my school counsellors asked to speak to me about the rumours he was hearing. I told him that I thought I was a nympomaniac. I asked him if he wanted me to suck his... penis. He said no. A week later he said yes. So I did, right there in his office. We had an affair for a year or so. He would pick me up in his car as I walked home, and we would... make love... in his house before his wife came home."

"Please, go on." he said, huskily. Was I mistaken, or was this turning him on?

"Soon after, I started seducing older men that I knew. My friends' fathers, neighbours and even my Mom's boss. I would find an excuse to be alone with them, and then I would let them make advances... or I would turn them on until they couldn't resist."

Again, the priest cleared his throat. He sounded a little uncomfortable. I wondered if he had heard similar confessions from the men I had fucked. He said "And... and how would you go about that?"

I felt a thrill of arousal rush through me. I knew enough about Catholic doctrine to know the answer to his question was not necessary for my redemption. I think he just wanted to know.

I knew my pussy was getting very wet. For the first time, I thought about touching it. I became emboldened.

"Well... early on, I would wait for them to make a comment or initiate contact. When I got a bit braver, I would wear skimpy clothing and bend over in front of them, or let them look at my cleavage. What I liked to do most though... was to tease a man until he couldn't control himself... I once dropped into my friend's house when I knew she was away with her Mom. I told her Dad that I had thought me and her were going to swim in their pool that day. I was wearing a bikini top and denim shorts. He asked me if I still wanted to swim, seeing as I was dressed for it."

Father O'Connor's side of the confession booth was completely silent now, save for his shallow breaths. I thought I could almost hear the blood rushing to his cock.

"I agreed, and got changed in her room. When I came out to his back yard to swim, he was already in the pool. I joined him and we chatted. After a while, he asked if I had a boyfriend. I told him that boys my age were too immature. He told me I was beautiful. I said that he was very handsome. We looked at each other for a few seconds, both of us were very close. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed me. He pulled me to him and started rubbing his penis against me."

I began to hear movement on the other side of the lattice. I thought I heard the sound of cloth rubbing. Through the small gaps I could just about make out Father O'Connor's open mouth, and hear him breathing deeply now.

Oh God. My head almost swam with sheer arousal. Was he really touching himself? This was so fucking hot.

My hand slid silently between my legs. I began to softly stroke my clit through soaking wet panties.

"I pretended to resist, but I wanted it as much as he did. Maybe more... He started kissing me. I pulled away a little, which seemed to make him more aggressive."

I decided to take a risk.

"He kept rubbing his cock against me." Father O'Connor didn't object this time. In fact, it sounded like his hand was moving faster, and his breathing got deeper. I wondered how big his dick was. Was he close to cumming? I was so fucking turned on. I could feel my own powerful orgasm building.

"I told him we shouldn't do it, that I was his daughter's best friend. I said that I wasn't on the pill either. That made him pause for a second..."

It sounded like Father O'Connor paused too.

"... Then I told him it would be really, really wrong if he took me upstairs and fucked me senseless in his daughter's bed. So he took me to her room and fucked me six ways from Sunday, Father!"

Father O'Connor groaned loudly. Then I heard him gasp as a mind-blowing orgasm overcame him. God, I would have fucking loved to see that. Or take it on my willing, smiling face. I could only imagine the depraved orgasm he had, years of denied fantasies leaving his balls full of hot cum. His resolve was broken by just the telling of my sinful deeds. In that moment, he was as filthy as me.

I too started to cum, waves of pleasure flowing through my body. I clasped a hand over my mouth to stifle my wanton moans. I writhed on the small seat, my feet pushed against the wooden walls as my body spasmed in forbidden pleasure. My panties were saturated with my pussy juice.

It turns out enticing devout men was a huge thrill for me.

I was definitely going to hell now. With a big smile on my face.

I heard Father O'Connor recover his breath on the other side of the lattice. I had no idea what was supposed to happen now.